Author: Roni Loren

She grabbed her purse, her skin crawling being this close to the man who’d scared her out of her house, run her off the fucking road. He could’ve killed her. She moved to scoot out of the booth.

“I wouldn’t leave so fast, Charli,” he said, the humor fading from his voice. “I have something you may want.”

He dropped a thumb drive onto the tabletop. She stared at it, the small thing seeming to loom between them. “What is it?”

He smiled, way too pleased with himself. “An audio file starring you.”

Her brow knitted.

“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and touched the screen.

Voices spilled from the small speaker. Very, very familiar voices.

I’m about halfway to coming, where are you, sweet Charlotte?

Wishing I was there. Touching you.

Charli gasped, reaching for Pete’s phone, but he held it out of her reach. “Turn it off.”

Are you wet for me?

Perhaps.

How much privacy does your office allow?

Charli looked around, mortified that anyone might hear, but luckily the restaurant was loud enough that they hadn’t drawn anyone’s attention yet.

Pete laughed and touched the screen, halting the embarrassing recording. “I have to admit, Beaumonde. Listening to you on that call was kind of hot. I didn’t think you had it in you. But I knew you were up to something on the phone when I saw you were all flushed and breathless when I stopped by your office.”

Anger rocketed through her, but she forced herself to stay calm, to not let him know how bad he’d gotten to her. “You’re a sick bastard, Pete. I’m sure the jail psychologist will have a fucking field day.”

“Oh, there will be no cops. You can’t prove I broke into your house.” He folded his hands on the tabletop, as if they were discussing next week’s meeting agenda instead of criminal acts. “This can all be resolved quite neatly actually. You give me your interview notes, the signed statement Rodney gave you, and let me take credit for breaking the story. And…you step out of the running for the anchor position. Do those two things, and you get your recording back. I’ll erase the copy on my phone and you can have the thumb drive.”

“No fucking way. This is my story and that anchor job is mine.”

He shrugged. “All right, well, I’m sure Trey and the board would love to hear what their reporter is doing at work on their dime. You won’t have to worry about not getting the anchor position anymore because you’ll be fired and have no references to find something else.”

She balled her fists, ready to throw more punches at him, but as his words sunk in she realized he had her in a goddamned corner. What she’d done at work had been completely unprofessional. If they doubted how seriously she took her job now, she’d blow any shot at being seen as a professional if this came out.

But if she turned over her notes, Pete would get the glory. And the job.

The only chance she had at someone believing her was Trey. He’d known she was chasing this particular story. Maybe she could explain to him what had happened. They had a friendship. Surely he could keep the information about the phone sex to himself.

Charli took a deep breath and grabbed the thumb drive. “I want to watch you delete it off your phone.”

Pete’s expression lit with smug triumph. He hit a few buttons and the file was gone. She shoved her notebook across the table and stood. “Only a fucking coward would stalk and blackmail someone to get a promotion. It’s really kind of pitiful. You know how much better I am than you are, and you don’t have the balls to compete on an even playing field.”

He scoffed. “The playing field is never even, Beaumonde. If it were, one of us would’ve had that sidelines position. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Right. ’Cause almost killing me out on that road would’ve been worth a promotion. You’re a goddamned psychopath.”

A line formed between his brows. “Almost killing you?”

She shook her head. So now he was going to play innocent? “Come near me ever again, and I’ll make that punch from the other day look mild.”

She stalked out of the restaurant, her head about to explode. Fucking punk. He couldn’t even man up and get his own damn story. If he’d put half as much energy into getting his own scoop as he had trying to hijack hers, he’d probably have a promotion already. All she could hope was that Trey would take her side and not accept Pete’s story.

The sunshine blinded her as she stepped into the parking lot. She pulled her sunglasses from her purse and found Grant walking her way from the other side of the lot. He halted when he saw her, a glimmer of relief crossing his features. He must’ve been on the way to check on her since she’d taken longer than five minutes.

They had agreed not to interact in case anyone was watching, but now that Pete had outed himself, she had no reason to be covert. He turned to go back toward his truck, but she followed him over. “Wait, we don’t have to play strangers anymore.”

He spun to face her, frowning. “What?”

She gave him the quick version of what had just happened, venom dripping off her tone.

Grant’s jaw flexed. “I see.”

“So no more stalker, but no more story…or promotion for that matter unless Trey helps me out.”

“Is that bastard still inside?” Grant asked, glancing toward the main door, a predatory glint in his eye.

She put a hand on his forearm. “Don’t. You’ll just get yourself in an unnecessary mess. Pete comes from a family of lawyers. We can’t prove anything, and if you lay a hand on him, he’ll press charges before you can blink. It’s not worth it. Let me handle it.”

He looked unmoved.

“I’m serious. Let it go.”

He sighed. “That’s not my strong suit, freckles, but I’ll do my best.”

She checked the time on her phone. “Look, I’m going to head into work and try to get to Trey before Pete does. You’re relieved of bodyguard duty. Pete’s got what he wants now.”

“Charli—”

“I’ll come by tonight and get my stuff from the cabin so I can move it back home.” The words hurt coming out, but after last night she didn’t see any other option. He’d had the chance to tell her that she was wrong, that he loved her back. But her house had remained silent last night, her bedroom empty.

He shifted his focus away from the diner and met her gaze, regret etching lines at the corners of his eyes. “We should talk.”

“We already did.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, closing her eyes and lingering for a second too long. This would be the last time she allowed herself to touch him. Tears lined her throat, but she forced them down. She pulled back and gave him her best attempt at a smile. “Thanks for everything, Grant. It’s been…educational.”

A pained expression shrouded his features. But he didn’t say anything further.

What was there to say?

Only one thing. “Good-bye, Grant.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Charli was in the mood to break things by the time late afternoon rolled around. Or maybe beat things—like Pete’s smarmy face. Trey hadn’t been in the office, and no one seemed to know when he’d be coming back. She’d tried his cell number without any luck. Pete hadn’t returned either. He was probably busy studying her notes so he could fake his way through owning her story.

She gripped the edge of her desk, letting out a groan of frustration.

Her phone beeped, indicating an internal call. She nearly pounced on the receiver. “Hello?”

“Beaumonde.”

“Trey!” she said, relief zipping through her. “I’ve been trying to track you down all day.”

“Sorry, it’s been a crazy day. But I’m in my office now. We need to talk.”

“Boy, do we.”

Charli had never made it to her boss’s office so quickly. She swung open the door, her story ready to burst from her lips, but Trey’s grim expression halted her in her tracks.

He already knew. She could see it all over his face.

“Shut the door.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “And sit.”

She clicked the door shut, then sank into the chair, her limbs half numb. “So Pete told you anyway.”

He looked to the ceiling, as if counting to ten in his head to calm down. “I told you to back off that fucking story, Beaumonde. But you had to keep pushing. Always pushing.”

She frowned. Wait, this wasn’t about the audiotape? “What are you talking about?”

He leaned onto his forearms, his gaze trapping her. “Any sane person would’ve dropped a story if they’d been run off the road and threatened. But no, you’re like a goddamned bulldog who keeps breaking its leash.”

Her blood chilled beneath her skin, her muscles going taut.

“You know anything about the company you work for, Charli? In all that dogged research, did you ever look at what percentage of the board of directors graduated from Dallas U?”

“Why would I research that?” She couldn’t wrap her thoughts around his question, her mind spinning, putting all the pieces in place.

“Because, those are the people who cut our fucking paychecks, Beaumonde,” he barked, his cheeks going ruddy. “The people I answer to. Men who would do anything to make sure their good names aren’t sullied and that their team keeps winning.”

Her stomach lurched as her brain caught up with the conversation, rage welling up inside her. Her own company had tried to shut her up—hurt her.

Trey shook his head, resignation settling like dust in the creases of his face. “I’ve always liked you, Charli. May have even loved you once upon a time.” He sighed. “I wanted to keep you out of it, tried to. But you couldn’t leave well enough alone. You were never good at listening.”

She wanted to yank him up by that collar of his and shake him. How dare he act like some martyr who’d tried to help her? “I was doing my job, Trey.”

“It’s not your job anymore, Charli. You’re fired.”

“What?” Red flooded her vision, his words like glass shattering in her brain. “You can’t do that.”

“I can and am.” He grabbed a sheet of paper from his printer and slid it across the desk. “We had Pete destroy all of your notes and facts. So, you have no proof of your story anymore. Plus, he got us the added bonus of your phone interlude with your boyfriend. Legitimate grounds for termination anyway.”

All she could do was stare at the notice of termination.

“Oh, and we talked to your source this morning, so don’t bother going back to him again. He no longer has any memory of speaking to you.”

She gasped, looking up from the document. “You hurt Rodney?”

He shrugged. “Hush money and a well-placed threat are much more effective than physical violence.”

Well, now she knew where Trey had gotten the money for that new Mercedes he was driving around. But apparently she wasn’t worth hush money. They were just getting rid of her. “So I’m just supposed to walk away?”

“If you don’t cause a fuss, we’ll just say you resigned. And believe me, Charli, you spill anything to anyone, you’re taking your life in your hands.” He rubbed a hand over his jawline, looking more weary than she ever remembered seeing him. “Their original plan was to get rid of you. They knew you didn’t really have any family around. It would take a few days for anyone to even notice you were gone. That accident on the road was just their first try.”

The cold wash of fear went all the way to her bones this time.

“If you hadn’t hightailed it to your boyfriend’s place, I’m not sure we’d be sitting here today.” His eyes shifted downward, some glimmer of guilt surfacing. “I convinced them to give me a chance to get some dirt on you, a way to get you out of this without them hurting you.”